


Tried To Tell You [ That I’m Out Here ]

by gliddies



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Dissociation, Eating Disorders, F/M, Past Rape/Non-con, no actual rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:47:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23781064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gliddies/pseuds/gliddies
Summary: “Name please?”The man looked through the woman for a moment, burning through her bleached locks and smouldering the pasty wall behind her. He says the first name he can think of.“Brian... Brian LeFevre.”————————————based purely on a headcanon that may or may not be true
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	Tried To Tell You [ That I’m Out Here ]

**Author's Note:**

> dee’s impression of ms klinsky was verbally based off rick moranis, which i was unaware of. i then assumed that klinsky was canadian [ ‘hey hoser’ ] and this disturbing thought [ now headcanon ] blossomed in my mind.
> 
> then this fic was birthed four hours later.
> 
> title graciously stolen from alien boy by oliver tree :)

“ _ **WELCOME TO NORTH DAKOTA**_ ”

The lettering was bold and bleach white against the blue sign, hung from the high ceiling by invisible wire. It was dizzying.

“Sir, the escalator stops here, can you please start moving?”

Dennis looks around and realises he’s standing stationary at the bottom of a long escalator, staring into space as a small line of blurry people grew impatient behind him.

“Oh. Sorry.”

His feet suddenly began moving of their own accord; his shoes slapped quietly against the shiny, cream coloured linoleum, automatically leading him in the direction of the nearest bathroom. Mirror. He needs a mirror.

Conscious brain coming alive, soul fluttering back into his body, Dennis sees that he made it to a disabled person’s restroom - he’ll say he’s autistic - as he’s met with his reflection.

“ _21_ ”

Written in black permanent marker. Bleeding into his foundation.

Rookie numbers.

Drool running down his chin. Eye’s lidded. Hair ruffled.

_Drunkard_.

Dennis reaches for the faucet and activates the sensor with a finger, immediately collecting the ice cold water in his palms and splashing it into his face to wash away the marker and makeup.

He makes the mistake of looking up half way theough; he’s met with a melting pile of skin. Foundation cracking amidst beads of orange tinged water, ‘ _waterproof_ ’ mascara running down his eyes, chin sticky with lipbalm.

_Disgusting_.

After another minute of scrubbing, Dennis is gone. A clean - _albeit red and sensitive_ \- face is looking back at him, he dries himself with a patch of his t-shirt unmarred by marker or splashes of booze, making sure to pat gently so as to not further aggravate his skin.

The man then begins to strip without a second thought, holding onto the thick, navy blue rail to steady himself as he sheds himself of all his clothing. Reaching into the bag he almost forgot about, he pulls out a pair of tight pants and a familiar button up, and before he knows it, he’s dressed again, leaving one extra button left undone because _why the hell not._

Into his pockets he shoves his phone and a smalll credit card - _Frank Reynolds_ embossed in small block lettering - that’s all he really needs, money and transport.

He’s still drunk. He had twenty-one beers. He’s absolutely wasted.

The man haphazardly shoves his dirty clothes back into his bag, letting out a shaky sigh before exiting the bathroom to find a way out of the labyrinth called ‘a busy airport’.

* * *

He blinks. He’s somewhere else now. It’s dark. Upon a brief look around, the man sees that he’s walking down a busy street, hands deep in his pockets and head bent down almost dejectedly. People were looking at him. They were all staring at him, stumbling backwards out of his way as he went past. If Dennis were here, they would be falling to their knees, clasping their hands together in prayer to honour the Golden God. Feeling blessed just to kiss the ground he walked on.

The man shoves his head further into his neck - _he’s reminded of a gag from some old adult cartoon, wishing he too could retract his head into his body like a turtle_ \- as he speeds up, looking around for an inn or hotel or somewhere to crash for the night, he’s too fucking drunk for this.

Just as he thinks he’s out of luck, the bright sign of what looks to be at least a three star hotel illuminates his vision. He doesn’t bother reading the name, just hurriedly heads inside, attempting to straighten his wilting posture to seem inconspicuous.

“Hello, do you have a prebooked room Sir?”

The receptionist was hot. Eastern European. A thick accent - norwegian maybe? Light blond curls barely hiding her bulging cleavage, blood red lipstick and drawn on eyebrows.

“No.”

“Name please?”

The man looked through the woman for a moment, burning through her bleached locks and smouldering the pasty wall behind her. He says the first name he can think of.

“Brian... Brian LeFevre.”

He tunes out afterwards. Mindlessly fishing out the credit card for the woman to swipe. If she saw the name, she didn’t mention it.

Once grabbing the key - _after two failed attempts, instead groping thin air_ \- he makes his way to the room, clumsily unlocking the door and slamming it shut with his foot. Before he knows it he’s crashed face first onto the bed; a deep inhale through his nose tells him it’s clean. Possibly floral scented.

Sleep comes instantly.

* * *

The man wakes up. Instantly bombarded with a throbbing head and churning stomach. He turns over with a groan, admiring the damp imprint of his mysterious face on the bedsheets, from tears or saliva, he’ll never know.

The clock on the wall read ‘ _11:36am_ ’.

It’s late.

After allowing himself five more minutes of self pity, the man pushes himself up, squinting at the midday light assaulting his corneas. He walks over to the door where his bag lay, listening to the popping of his bones as he rumages around for his emergency supplies.

_Makeup, check. Condoms, check. Phone charger, check. Valium, check._

He throws his now closed bag onto the wrinkled sheets, trudging through to the en-suite bathroom to go find Dennis.

* * *

The man doesn’t find Dennis. Dennis was washed away in the airport restroom. Instead he finds a new man, Mr Brian LeFevre.

Brian looks at himself in the mirror as he dresses, he looks a little bit like Dennis Reynolds. _That’s funny_. He carries himself differently, however; the curve in his slouched spine matched the purple circles under his eyes. His makeup may or may not be a little less subtle; cheekbones accentuated further and lips tinted a pale pink. He doesn’t look too bad.

A sudden, loud growl interrupts his thoughts.

He’s hungry.

Does Brian LeFevre eat? Does he stuff himself full of carbs or exist solely on cigarettes and valium? Does he wear a girdle on special occasions? Does he binge when emotionally distressed?

Before he can answer, his hands shove his phone and card into his pocket, they’re grabbing the keys and his feet are taking him outside.

The fresh air is nice, and the sun makes the street look a lot less intimidating. His head hurts.

Brian walks down the busy street, keeping his head down as he ignores the occasional wave or smile shot his way. No need to associate with these people, they don’t know him.

Where does he want to eat? Where does Brian want to waste his precious little calories?

As to be expected, Brian finds himself approaching an Applebee’s.

He walks up to counter and asks for a water, awkwardly pushing some change into the person’s hand to apologise for such a strange order.

Once he takes note of his surroundings, Brian slowly walks over to a quieter corner, sitting down and placing his glass in front of him.

Time passes a little too quickly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Brian sees a woman walking in his direction. He sips slowly at his water while following her with his gaze. As she continues getting closer, he realises that she’s walking directly over to him.

A pair of hands place themselves on his table, sharp, manicured nails tapping against it. Two eyes are on him. A small smile.

“Well hi there, I noticed you’re sitting by yourself, would ya’ like some company?”

**Brian disappears, briefly.**

_Dennis is there. Was there._

_A honey drenched voice - vaguely canadian - and eyes burning with warmth, a single sharp nail pushing his book out of his line of vision_

_“Well hello there, young man, I noticed you’re sitting all by yourself here, would ya’ like a little company?”_

_The Golden God doesn’t want company._

_“Yes please...”_

_The Golden God needs company._

“Sir? Is everything alright?”

“Brian.” His voice almost wavers, hands shaking against his glass, “I’m Brian. Sorry... I was a little caught in my thoughts there.” He laughs.

“Well it’s nice to meet ya’, Brian. I’m Mandy.” The woman - _Mandy_ \- gives him a warm smile, “Do you mind if I sit with ya’? We’re both alone so why don’t we be alone together? Golly, I hope that doesn’t sound too creepy...” She laughs a little, a nice laugh.

Brian nods, slowly, carefully putting down his glass of water as he looks at her.

She’s pretty. Shoulder length mousy brown hair, a warm smile, and her eyes twinkle a little when she laughs.

“I’m sorry for not answering, Mandy. I just wasn’t expecting a pretty woman to approach me today.” His lips are curled into a smile.

A small blush forms on Mandy’s cheeks, letting out a feminine giggle, “Gosh, we’ve barely known eachother a minute and you’re already calling me pretty. Ya’ don’t look too bad yourself there Brian.”

_“You’re very handsome, did you know that, Dennis? The other boys are just jealous of your good looks.”_

_“Thank you, Miss.”_

Brian looks down at his glass of water, tapping the side with a finger to watch it ripple.

“So, is your misses out shopping? Taking the kids to daycare?” Mandy laughs a little again, taking a small sip of a coffee that has just arrived.

“I don’t have kids. Or a wife.”

A small gasp escapes from the woman’s lips, eyes widening, “My goodness I’m so sorry for assuming you were straight! I-Is it a boyfriend or husband you’re waiting for?”

Brian snaps, “I’m not gay.” He slowly adds, “Or bi.”

Her expression softens a little, dainty hands hugging her cup, “Oh... You don’t have any sort of partner? Well... I guess that makes the two of us.” Mandy gives him another smile, more supportive this time. It reminds Brian of someone.

_“I’ve just been so lonely ever since my dear husband passed away...”_

“Yeah... I guess it does.” Brian watches his hand plant itself flat on the table, closer to Mandy’s side, held open and inviting.

_“I... I’m here for you, Miss.”_

Mandy looks at the hand laid before her, debating for a short moment before placing her hand in his, gripping it gently, “It does.”

_“Thank you, Dennis, you’re such a kind boy”_

Brian knows what’s happening. He’s seen Dennis do it countless times.

Demonstrate value

Engage physically, and so forth.

Though recently, he cut three unnecessary steps out of his system, he opts to just Seperate Entirely afterwards. The D.E.S system doesn’t sound as good, but it’s easier.

“Well, gosh, Brian... I don’t mean to sound so forward, but am I correct in believing we’re both looking for a little fun?” Mandy’s eyes flutter up to meet his gaze, blushing a little again.

Brian nods, slowly, “I guess you could say there’s someone I’m trying to forget about.”

“You’re not from here, are ya’?” Her other hand abandons her coffee, gently clasping her hands around his, “How about I show you around first? A lil’ exploring might be just what you need to perk ya’ up!”

Oh. Dennis hasn’t spent time with a woman before banging for a long time. Good thing he’s not Dennis.

“That sounds nice.”

* * *

The two spend the day roaming around the city; Mandy took him to nearby landmarks, held his hand as they walked along a lake, sat down next to him while they ate sweet pastries and drank milky coffee - it was nice.

Well, it would have been if he was there.

Brian had left his body for a little while, floating off into the clouds as he watched his empty body get dragged around the city. Dennis was nearby, he was sobbing.

‘Why is Dennis crying?’ Thought Brian, as he watched him fall apart. I’m with a beautiful woman, and he will almost definitely get to see me bang her. He should be happy.

‘Please don’t’ Cried Dennis, huddling into a pathetic ball on the floor, ‘She sounds like her. She sounds like her. She sounds like her.’

“Hey, hoser, everything okey dokey?” Mandy tilted her head in confusion, smiling at him

Dennis cried harder.

Brian shot back into his body, blinking a little before talking, “Y-Yeah, I’m okay Mandy, I... I just think you’re beautiful...” Demonstrate value.

“Oh wow... That’s awful kind of ya’ Brian. I think you’re good looking too...” She looks around for a moment before adding a little quieter, “Do you live near here?”

“No. I’m on a business trip. The hotel I’m staying at is down there.” Brian points down the street to the hotel.

Mandy looks down the street where he pointed, laughing a little, “Well, don’t ya’ think you outta show me? I’m quite the visual learner.”

Brian nods, carefully taking her hand in his as they begin walking to the hotel. Next step. Engage physically.

The next thing he knows, they’re in his hotel room, and Mandy’s pinning him against the door and kissing him feverishly.

“You’re so sexy, Brian~ Betcha’ real big down there~”

He lets himself be led to the bed, clothes disappearing one by one. _It smells dusty. Why did she lock the door._

Mandy’s _nails_ trail down his torso, grasping hold of him with a firm hand, “I was right~”

Time is weird.

Mandy’s ontop of him now.

He’s inside her.

_“Oh... Dennis... You’re such a good boy, aren’t ya’? So lucky, too... To have somebody to show ya’ how to love... It’ll really stick it to that Adriano kid...” Everythings’s sharp. Everything’s sharp. Her voice aches._

Brian looks up at Mandy’s blissful expression, he then realises he’s not wearing protection. He places his trembling hands on her hips, encouraging her movements.

_“You’re my little golden boy~” Pure Gold is soft. He’s hard. An impure golden boy? He’s inside her. The carpet hurts his back. It’s dusty._

Brian thinks thinks that maybe he can make his own system, the BRIAN system.

**B** ang some more women

**R** ing Mac, sometime

**I** ngest nothing

**A** ct normal 

**N** eglect, everything 

He can feel Mandy tighten around him, pulsing and crying out in pleasure. The pressure makes him bust, squeezing her hips tightly as he fills her.

_“See, Dennis? I told you that making love is amazing. It’s so beautiful that you cannot help but cry.” She sounds like a poet. His eyes burn. He’s sticky._

Dennis was still laying about somewhere in the atmosphere, somewhere in time, still sobbing and breaking and falling and dying and hurting. He made up a new system all on his own.

**D** emonstrate need

**E** radicate virginity

**N** orth Dakota, not Canada

**N** ails, sharp

**I** t’s so familiar

**S** he sounds like _her_

Dennis’ feelings go away, like some sort of fourteen year old kid.

He Separates entirely.

**Author's Note:**

> i think i’m only able to write dennis suffering fics, even when in oneshot form.
> 
> shout at me and give me fic prompts  
> twitter | @gliddies  
> tumblr | @gloochie


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